Dorcha Aingeal
by Keito-san
Summary: System of a Down/Scars on Broadway Fanfiction Caiomhe, the manager of a band, has everything, including an abusive boyfriend. She finds comfort in her new friends, Scars on Broadway. But what do they think of her boyfriend.
1. Caiomhe

**A/N: First published on the Official Unofficial System of a Down Website. **

**Caiomhe**

I sat, back to the front door of my little house, transcribing guitar tablature to standard sheet music. The lead guitarist of Gruesome Uproar, Sam, was sitting on my Jennifer convertible. He watched me with interest as I scribbled on three sets of paper.

"I am sssooo happy you went to college to learn this stuff."

I scoffed and gave him a glare. At the age of thirty, I had done for myself. Manager of a top ten band since my first college graduation, I had a job, friends, and a nice fat paycheck. Most of it seemed to go to bills and such, but there was always some left over for the studio that was being constructed in the basement. It was almost finished, and quite comfy.

Suddenly the door, behind me shook. I swore; the nice fountain pen had leaped out of my hand. It spilled ink out.

"James, yeh piece of gick. Use the other door," I said, trying to prevent the spill from going much farther. I managed to save the sheet music, can't say much for my notes. The TAB was saved on the computer, so I could print out another copy.

"Come on, Caoimhe. Please?"

"No."

"Pwease?"

"Stop being a chiseller and use the other fecking door."

I heard a sigh and muttering. Yeah. There was defiantly more than just James, Johnny, and Keagan. Again, probably a shiny new toy. It started to annoy me. New girl every week. And they fell for it.

The back door opened and I could hear James swearing. There were male voices in my kitchen. I looked at Sam, who shrugged in response and handed me his copy of the TAB. I resumed my work.

"Johnny, I'm going to need you TAB, as soon as humanly possible please. Keagan, I'll need your music. I would like to have just one piece of music this time, instead of twenty different versions. I am not speaking to James at the moment."

I didn't look up, but suddenly there were two new pieces of music sitting in front of me. I guess my tone clued them in that I was slightly more than pissed.

"Daron, John, this is our manager, Caoimhe Mahoney. Extremely Irish, extremely pissy, but extremely talented in her areas of expertise; she's worth her paycheck. Caoimhe, I would like you to meet Daron Malakian and John Dolmayan of Scars on Broadway. We're talking of collaborating for a song or two."

I nearly dropped my fountain pen again and swore. I looked up at smiled. I had several papers drying around me, I couldn't move. I held up an ink stained hand and smiled.

"Sorry about early. Pleasure to meet you," I said, throwing my Irish accent out the window. It came out when I least wanted it to, aka; tired, angry, careless, drunk…

I went back to the sheet music and continued to copy it down. I finished the guitar part and managed to get halfway through the bass copy before James started whining about his hunger pains. I stood and placed sheet music down to dry and washed my hands. Everyone followed me into the small kitchen. I turned to glare at them.

"Tiny kitchen was not made for six hungry men."

Johnny, Sam, John, and Keagan left, leaving James, Daron and I. Daron had sat down at my table and was looking at the drying sheet music. James was rifling through my cabinets. I smacked his arm.

"I'll fix something. Why don't you go ask everybody what they want?" I suggested. He left, muttering about something. I sighed and shook my head with a small smile. Sometimes I couldn't believe him. Acted like a child despite his grand stature.

"I swear I am his mother."

"Wow," Daron said. I looked up from washing my pen of excess ink and at him. I hadn't heard him speak much; then again I wasn't paying attention. I dried off my hands.

"Wow what?"

"This music…"

"The actual music? Hmph. This is one of their singles. They want to do something for charity, so their compiling some of their songs into book with all fancy paper."

"Hmm… Interesting. It's beautiful penmanship."

I smiled and walked over to where he was standing. I only had two parts done; it was beginning to bug me. I had another two weeks to finish it, but Gruesome Uproar had two shows to attend. I was left with organizing that. And, I was supposed to fly to Boston a day after Christmas, then to Ireland the day after that.

Joy to the world.

"Thank you. It took me forever to perfect it, and even so, this is my third copy. Multitalented manager at your service."

"CAIOMHE!! FIVE CHEESEBURGERS!!" James roared from the den. I bristled; I had to set my pen down carefully before I snapped it in two. I calmed myself down to continue talking with Daron.

"Want a cheeseburger?"

"Nah… Been trying to eat healthier."

"I have veggie burgers. Just like regular burgers with chunks, lot healthier too."

"Really? Sure."

I started cooking the burgers and fries, still chatting with Daron. He was quite interesting. We talked about music, which soon evolved into family. I knew enough about Daron, he was bloody famous. The manager was famous only amongst the organizers of the music biz.

"Me dad's from Cork. I was born there, in Ireland. Moved to Boston when I was seven, so I still have the accent occasionally. What about you?"

"First generation American. My parents are Armenian. I lived here my entire life. Made System, then Scars."

"So you're a Hollywood boy, eh? I remember in high school in history our history teachers just glazed over so many things. Oliver Cromwell was the first thing I remember, Da' was so angry. There a few more, but there were a couple of Armenian kids in my class. The teacher said, 'There was Armenian genocide in Turkey. Well… It didn't fare well for the teacher."

I nodded, setting his burger down in front of him and called for the boys. I leaned up against the counter while the bulls stormed in and then left. I picked up my plate and took the other seat next to Daron to continue talking.

"What's sad is teachers over in Massachusetts have to teach what's given to them for the standardized testing. It's state wide and unfair, because kids with mental disabilities have to take the same ones as kids with out."

Daron pondered this. It was quiet for several, awkward minutes. I heard laughing from the other room. God knows what those eejits were doing.

"So things can be completely skipped over? And kids are penalized for have a mental disability?" he asked. I nodded. He shook his head. I frowned and leaned back, my appetite leaving me; my heart was racing. I reached for a pack of gum I had left and took out a piece.

"What's that?" Daron asked, looking at the Big Book of Band Jokes. I laughed and handed it to him.

"Present from the guys," I explained. Eight years out of a marching band and I was still missed it. I was a teeny bit obsessed. I opened it and started reading some jokes.

"What do a vacuum and an electric guitar have in common?"

"What?"

"They both suck when you plug 'em in."

"Aw, that's terrible."

"There all that way."

He laughed, and I cracked a smile, and he placed a hand on mine. Our conversation grew more intimate. I felt my stomach flip. I came to a sudden realization; _I was flirting Daron Malakian._

Another day, that would've been fine, but not with my boyfriend. He was jealous enough because I worked with an all male band. I felt the blood run from my face.

"Caoimhe, are you alright?"

I shook my head. The door behind me opened and I must've jumped a foot the air. It was Brian. I pulled my hand back as if scalded and looked down at my meal. Brian ignored me and went into the refrigerator. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding as he left.

"Who was that?" Daron asked, suspicious.

"My boyfriend," I whispered, poking at my fries.

**Dictionary:**

**Caiomhe- **pronounced KEE-va, stems from Irish Gaelic _caomh_ meaning beautiful.

**gick**- Irish slang for crap and related

**chiseler-** Irish slang for baby, child

**eejit**- idiot


	2. Dark Wingz

**A/N: Second Chapter. Yay!!!!!!**

**Caiomhe  
**

Daron lingered for a little, after the boys had disappeared downstairs, watching me with cautious eyes. We didn't speak, but eventually, John called him down to write with them. I puttered around, cleaning the kitchen and den, doing the dishes, and handing Brian another beer. I finally joined them downstairs in the almost finished studio.

They were all sitting on the plush cushions and chairs I had spread about in one of the rooms, talking. I stretched out across Daron, James, and Sam's laps, and listen to their conversation. There was a lull, and Sam filled it quickly.

"_He's_ home isn't he?"

I looked away from him and crossed my arms.

"Caiomhe…" Keagan said in a warning voice. I sighed and nodded.

"You need to break it off with him," James said, placing a hand on my knee. I stood up and turned away from everyone.

"I… I tried… You remember what happened," I whispered, my voice shaking. It atmosphere got awkward. I stood and shook my head. I changed the subject.

"What have you guys written so far?"

"Mmm. Nothing much," James said, a half eaten candy cane sticking out of his mouth. I shook my head in dismay and took the paper he was staring at. It read _Potential Songs_. Nothing else except for some doodles. I laughed.

"You guys fail so much sometimes."

"If you think you can do better, than do it!" Keagan said, crossing his arms.

"Nah. My stuff won't make sense if you sing it," I said, sitting down with a pencil. I looked at Daron, who was staring into space. I aimed and threw the pencil, which hit the wall next to his head with a dull, pathetic thud. He jumped anyway.

"You're the master lyricist here," I said, offering the paper. Daron looked at it for a minute before taking it. No one had a guitar or any other musical instrument with them, so I stood and went to the storage room. I heard whispers, as I said, there were still some things to be done down here.

"What's up with your manager?" Daron asked.

"Her boyfriend. He's an alcoholic and abuses her. She denies it, but…" Sam trailed off. Keagan picked it up for him.

"We know it. He was nice at first, always got her presents and stuff, but about a year in a half ago, she came into work crying. She wouldn't tell us why. Then a couple months after that she had bruises. She always had excuses for them. We eventually figured things out."

"Why doesn't she break up with him?" John asked.

"Why don't the other abuse victims?" James replied, sounding serious for a change. "They used to it, they're threaten, scared. Caoimhe tried, but she ended up in the hospital. We tell her we'll be there, but nothing seems to help."

My eyes swelled up with tears. I knew the truth, but… My life was threatened. Brian… he… he _STABBED_ me! I couldn't. Fear pushed me down, made me a spineless little twit when he came around. It wasn't me it wasn't what I used to be.

I wiped my eyes and picked up one of the cases, still listening in.

"Heh. Remember when she used to come up on stage."

"Oh, yeah. And we'd do Chop Suey!"

Yeah. I remembered. I used to go up on stage, and that was so until about six years ago. I wore mostly white, or light colors, while the boys, to this day, wore darker colors, mostly black. My guitar, my child, was a 1960 Gibson Les Paul Special DC (double cutaway). It was my dad's, originally bought four under a hundred bucks. It was my graduation gift for college (the first time around). He had it refurbished and repainted so that it looked like wings in dark purples.

"Don't forget Dark Wingz, James," I heard James say. "It's what gave Caiomhe her name."

"Dorcha Aingeal," they chorused. I walked out of the storage room, carrying three cases.

"Some one say m'name?" I asked, placing the cases down. Johnny and Sam leapt for their instruments and I set down the remaining one. I opened the case slowly and looked at my child, Dark Wingz. Such a cheesy name, but the fans had dubbed it and me.

"Is that it?" Daron asked.

"Mine? Yeah. This is Dark Wingz," I said, in reverence. I hadn't held her in some time. I took searched in the velvet for my pick. It's was the only one I had used on her. It was a clear crystal pick. It came relatively cheap (compared to similar ones), and it created a great sound.

"It's been a while," Keagan said. I smiled wider and tuned up. As soon as I was, I started playing, letting the music flow through me. I found my self playing a version of Danny Boy, humming along, rocking with the beat.

"Um, Keev?" James asked, making me jump.

"Jaysus!" I said, jumping. "What?"

"You're freaking us out."

"It's what I always do when I get into the music!" I said standing and plugging my guitar into an amp. "Stop criticizing me. Has it really been that long, Jamesy?"

"Don't call me Jamesy and yes, it has."

"Hmph." I frowned and sat on the amp, randomly plucking notes. It turned into me improvising a song, using more Celtic inflictions than normal. When I finished I found all six men staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You're that talented and you ended up managing a band?" John asked. I shrugged.

"The rock star life didn't appeal to me," I said. I rubbed my arm absentmindedly, feeling the bumpy scars underneath my sweater. "Sex and drugs. That's all it was, and still is. I don't like it."

No. It didn't fit with me. Not at all.


	3. Break Up

**Caiomhe  
**

Gruesome Uproar and Scars on Broadway ended up meeting several more times, some times with me, and some times with out. We all ended up being good friends, much to Brian's disapproval. I did manage to get him to understand it was business friendship, eventually.

Everyone kept on urging me to end my relationship with him, and I kept on ignoring them. It all came to head though, when we all went out for drinks after a long day of recording.

It was a small Irish bar, one of the few half way decent Irish bar on the west coast. It was homey, and had good beer. Brian sat between me and the rest of the guys, keeping a wary eye out while downing several beers. I ended up drinking on half a bottle the entire three hours we were there. I was the one chosen to tell the taxi cabs were the hell everyone was going.

Sam and James looked less than pleased that Brian had tagged along, but said nothing. Daron and Keagan were in a deep discussion about drug laws. The two Johns were cracking jokes and attempting to flirt with the barmaid.

"I'm going to go have a smoke," Brian slurred after his fourth, stand and staggering to the door. We all fanned out, grateful for the extra room. I gave up my seat and wound up sitting on Sam's lap and stretched my legs across Daron and Keagan's lap.

"Aw, Keev, why don't you give me a little leg action?" Johnny said. I flipped him off before taking a swig of my beer.

"So classy," he grinned.

"I don't need class; I'm Irish," I said, throwing on my accent. I through one arm around Sam's neck and we began singing Da Vinci's Notebook's _Irish Drinking Song_. Halfway through it I felt a sharp tug on my pony tail that sent me backwards. I was dragged up and was face to face with a pissed off drunken Brian.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

"I… I… N-nothing, honey… Just singing," I stammered. Brian looked at the group behind us and pulled me outside.

"Brian, ow, you're hurting me!" I yelped. My arm felt like it was going to snap. He threw me to the ground. I managed to land on my side.

"You filthy whore!" he screamed at me. I stood, feeling defiant. Maybe it was the booze, though it wasn't much, or maybe just I had enough.

"I am no whore."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the boys spill out of the bar, worried looks on all of their faces. I stared Brian down, something I had never really done. He looked nervous; he had to regain control again. He raised his fist and hit me open palm. I staggered with the force, nearly sending me backwards. In a flash, Daron was at my side, steadying me.

"Don't help the whore up, you faggot," Brian slurred. Daron stiffened at stared at him.

"I don't want to fight," he said, calm and deadly. James and Sam stood on either side of Daron. Brian sized up the trio. Daron took a step towards him.

"I bet it makes you feel like a big man who you push Caiomhe around, huh? You no worse than a playground bully trying to get people to like him. Well, big news, no one's taking your shit anymore, so go away."

Daron was short compared to Brian, but his tone was dangerous. Brian looked at the trio, then at the two Johns and Keagan guarding me. He opened his mouth and turned away. I learned later he walked straight into police's arms. Daron looked back at me.

"Keev, are you alright?" he asked. I nodded, but the slap, combined with and lack of food made and the whole fact that Brian was gone was too much. I stumbled and he caught me. I smiled up at him.

"Thank you, so much."

I leaned up against his chest. He was comfy, not overly muscled, just nice and comfy. He smelt good too, sweet but smoky. I think it was pot. I didn't care. I was emotionally spent.


End file.
